by Michele Hauf
What cruelty to push her away.
What strange happiness to revel in the leap. The stride to the other side. A new world. A new beginning. No comfort. Not even the tinkle of gold watch fobs muffled by ells of Alençon lace. He had done it. For good or for ill. To struggle with the wrongs would only convolute the newness of his reality.
A witch? She had best conjure a more believable lie than that. Did Roxane not remember she had convinced him that witches and vampires were enemies? Or was she merely frightened? She had gone to bed with him hours ago, his lover—literally seducing him up from the vibration of madness that had wanted his soul.
Yet, he could not summon regret. It felt alien to consider the emotion. The decision to change had been right.
He turned his hand over, noticing for the first time the cut on his forefinger from clutching the glass. Premeditated escape from madness. A blind leap to savior. He licked the blood from the slash, only to witness it heal. The flesh sewed seamlessly together before his very eyes.
I have lived for over two centuries…
A delicious smile crept across Gabriel’s face. “Bon jour, immortality.”
A sharp bite of pain erupted in his upper jaw. He doubled, falling to his knees beneath the midnight rainbow.
Roxane stumbled into her room and collapsed onto the vanity chair. The posies strewn on the floor had wilted and were stained with spots of her blood. She studied the wound on her wrist. Not life threatening, but it continued to seep. Sorting through her sewing box she produced a strip of linen, the same she’d used to bind Gabriel’s wound.
He had drunk her blood!
But the most remarkable thing was that nothing untoward had come of it.
She eyed her reflection, seeking answers. They are celadon. She blinked, erasing the need to replace the monster who had attacked her with the kind, charming man she had begun to love. What had compelled him to do such a thing? To, of a sudden, attack her? Though not a violent attack. He’d brought her to orgasm before he’d bitten her. Planned then, yes? He had been so close. The moon promised fullness tomorrow night!
She had not been vigilant in helping him.
You had no intention of helping, only using, remember?
Yes, as bait. And now, what would come of her brilliant plan? How to lure the enemy with bait that had turned enemy as well?
Two men you have failed. She moaned. Can you love a vampire?
She had not answered when he’d asked that ridiculous question. It wasn’t supposed to be an option. Had he known then that he would succumb this night?
Could she love a vampire? It was doubtful. Vampires were creatures of the night. Witch’s bane.
I will follow the night.
Losh!
She turned her wrist this way and that. How had he been able to take her blood without dire consequences? She had performed the ascendant ritual, had gained immortality through the taste of vampire blood—the mark on her breasts had been forged of fire and blood. By rights, one drop of her blood should have obliterated Gabriel.
Unless something had gone wrong. Perhaps the transformation had not occurred? Did he merely play at a silly triumph?
“Damn you, Renan, if you think to toy with me—”
Roxane wrapped a makeshift bandage about her wrist, tugging the knot tight with her teeth, and hastened from her room. She’d not heard him draw the lock across his door.
Aware she wore but a robe, loosely tied, she could not concern herself with propriety. The man had touched, tasted and licked every portion of her body—Tasted?
“Bloody hell.” He’d done more than taste. He had consumed her body and soul.
Without knocking, she entered Gabriel’s room.
Shoulders squared and arms stretched down and out at his sides, the delicious rainbow sucked him upward. Emerald, fuchsia, and vibrant yellow painted the billowy white shirt that hung from his muscled arms. Strong thighs and calves, bared and taut, took on crimson and verdant ivy. Blood splattered the lace and wrinkled hem of his shirt. Her blood.
Wrapped in his seduction and kisses she had been intensely focused. So close to coming—they had been making love! She had not had time to register the cut to her wrist.
He did not turn to her, only grunted, “Get out.”
“Make me.”
She strode to the vanity and fingered the powdered hairs of a hedgehog wig that sat upon a sightless porcelain dummy. Coaching her voice to remain calm, she reprimanded. “How dare you use me. Of all the unthinking, cruel—You ask me to love you and then you bite me?”
“You are obviously no worse for wear. Witch.”
That single word, laced with venom, thumped in her breast. “So you believe me?”
“Hardly. You are as mad as your brother.”
“It is my blood in this vial. It was my blood that killed the vampire who crashed through your window.”
“Indeed?” He reeled about and fixed a needle gaze to her. “Prove it. Speak a spell. Command the elements. Bewitch me, witch.”
“It—it does not work that way.”
“Nothing ever works when it needs to. Why did you not reveal this paramount secret to me before?” Crimson colored his face and eyes, gifting them a bloody glint. “Or was that your plan all along? Tempt the man into becoming a vampire, and then, knowing he could not resist your allure, get him to bite you? And then… Well, what then? Here I am. I stand, Roxane. I have not exploded into a puddle of creature blood. What is to become of your ever powerful theory now?”
“I am as surprised as you.” She took a step forward, but relented when he raised a hand. He wanted distance and she would be wise to grant it. Besides, he looked a horror covered with her blood. “I do not believe you are a vampire.”
“So you are the non-believer now?”
His smile was anything but charming. It bordered on the smiles Damian wore for his spinning subjects.
He stalked toward her. The sharp glint in his eyes struck out, piercing her in the breast. The swish had become a predator, slinking and working his dark gaze against her.
“You have been so worried should I consume a mere drop of blood. You think sucking out the blood from your veins did not complete the change?”
“It-it could not have. Witch’s blood and vampires…”
“Sure death, yes?” He raised a finger between them. “But you forget, witch, I was not a vampire before I drew the blood from your veins.”
Roxane stumbled upon her own breath. Losh. The man had a point. “I had not thought of that.” Made utterly horrific sense. “But what makes you imagine it worked?”
Aware of her fear, but, she sensed, secretly enjoying her trembles and uncertainty, Gabriel pressed the heels of his hands to her shoulders, pinning her to the wall. He drew in her scent as a beast scents its prey.
“Gabriel, please, you’re frightening me.”
“Not even close.”
“Yes, I’m—step back, please.”
“If you do not believe the change worked, how then, can you possibly be frightened?”
“Y-you are acting strangely.”
“Indeed?” He ran his tongue along the inside of his upper teeth, then stretched his lips open to reveal the new fangs.
“Mon Dieu.”
“You plead to God? But I thought witches pagans? Do not your kind worship the Devil? Or some goddess who dances naked in the forest?”
She gasped in a breath as his palm pressed to her breast. “Please, Gabriel.”
“So many secrets, witch.”
A slap to his cheek took him off guard. But his reaction was not so blind. Capturing her wrist in a tight clutch he growled at her.
“When did it happen? Yo-your teeth?” she hissed against his cheek.
“Moments ago. If you would have granted me the privacy I demanded I might have had time to grasp the magnitude of the occasion. As it stands, you stride in here and boldly wave this flag of blood before me. Shall I test the puncturing capabilities of my ne
w prizes?”
“You cannot take my blood again. It would be madness.”
A knee to his groin succeeded in bringing him to his knees. As she slipped from him, he snatched the hem of her robe. Fabric tore, but not without bringing her down. He crawled over her sprawled body, a feral cat climbing upon a pinned mouse.
“You press the bounds of our relationship, witch.”
“We have no relationship.”
“I thought we had become lovers? That you loved me?”
“You assume very much.”
“So you spit that in my face now that I am the monster you love to hunt? What of you? Witch. Are you not a monster as well?”
“I am not! Your grip, it is too tight. You mustn’t cut me. Gabriel, please. Be wary of my blood. Remember the vampire!”
A twist of his head and he preened over the stain on the floor. Witch’s blood had annihilated the minion. And yet, it had not done so to him. It must be because he had not been vampire when he bit her.
Tears streamed over Roxane cheeks. She touched his chin. He jerked away. “You must never again drink from me,” she said on a sniffle. “I don’t want you to die. I cannot lose you now.”
“And why not? You don’t love me. You said you could not love a vampire.”
“I-I never answered that question.”
“And now? Can you love a vampire?”
Gazing deeply into his eyes, the meaning of bewitching grew very clear to her. Falling again, falling evermore and not afraid to surrender.
Roxane tilted her head. “Could you love a witch?”
Stroking his cheek, he softened his stance, his tense shoulders relaxing. She gentled him so easily. “I already do.” And he whispered, “God pity us both.”
NINETEEN
Gabriel tugged the blanket over his head and clutched it to his neck. The woven cotton hooded his eyes from the light that seeped through the oculus. He wasn’t sure if sunlight would sizzle him to ash. Yet Toussaint had said Mesmer had witnessed vampires walking during the day.
He should slip out from under cover and slide a toe into the light. First sign of smoke he could recoil.
Gabriel eyed the storm of colors raining in from above. Had his sanctity been stolen from him with one drastic act? Would he ever again stand beneath the oculus, bathed in color and serenity?
“The moon reaches fullness tonight, Renan. You will be successful!”
Toussaint’s sudden entrance made him burrow down against the pillows.
“Gabriel?” He held a razor and bowl of water arranged on a silver tray that had been only slightly jiggled by his erratic entrance. “Do not tell me you are pouting. You should be elated. Shall I draw the drapes and—”
“No, Toussaint! The light, it bothers me.”
“Your eyes still? I wonder what that is about? I can find your spectacles.”
“I’m not sure two small lenses of blue glass will serve the purpose this time, Toussaint.”
“But why not—” The valet noticeably stiffened. Slowly he turned to squint at Gabriel. The man’s mirth slipped down his jaw until it hung open, revealing teeth. “What has happened?”
Rising from his burrow, Gabriel figured he could not lie to his closest friend. Secrets only destroyed lives.
If Roxane had told him sooner would he have avoided her? Hell yes. And yet…
“I drank her blood.”
Shaving utensils clattered across the marble floor. Stiff and open-mouthed beneath the oculus, Toussaint mimicked a statue. “You—” He snapped his jaws shut in a repeated biting motion.
“Yes.” Gabriel tossed the blanket and shuffled to sit upon a parti-color pillow, still safely within the shadows of the half-tester. He tipped the thick tassels that dangled from the edge of the counterpane and pulled them through his fingers, over and over. “I have become a creature that follows the night and fears the sun. Do I not look one?”
Slowly the valet’s hand moved up—as if to make a quick move would alert the beast—until he encircled his throat with shaking fingers.
“Ah yes, I wager you must fear me now. Jump out of it, Toussaint. It is me! I have not changed.”
“But you said—Are you having fun with me, Renan? This is not at all humorous.”
“You’ve nothing to fear. Save…” He stretched his lips to reveal the fangs he now considered quite elegant.
Toussaint’s squeak could have called dogs.
“Bit of an obstacle at first,” he offered with a wag of his tongue at the frightened servant. “If I am conscious of my words and opening and closing my mouth I’ll be fine. Only bit myself twice since last evening.”
“You’re…you’re…” A loud swallow descended Toussaint’s throat. He clutched his other hand to his neck.
“I am what?”
“Taking this remarkably well!” he shrilled out.
“Isn’t so horrible as I anticipated. How is Roxane, by the by? Hasn’t fallen dead from blood loss, has she?”
“You bit Roxane? But—”
“She tell you she’s a witch?”
“Oh mercy.” Toussaint start to sway.
“The chair, man. You’ll collapse if you don’t sit. And breathe. You’ll turn livid from fright.”
Gabriel crawled forward, setting Toussaint to a jump and a wide path around the end of the bed. “I am not going to attack.”
Grabbing the arm chair and pulling it to the wall—the greatest distance from the bed—Toussaint collapsed onto the plush crimson cushion. “I think I need a drink.”
“I thought you wanted this for your dull miserable master? A new adventure to suck the boredom from my routine.”
“I think the change has altered your brain. I would have never wished—”
“Well, it is done.”
“For what reason? You were so close. Oh, my soul. Was it the madness?”
“I don’t believe so. At least, I didn’t feel I was on an edge of mental suicide. It was physically challenging, fighting the hunger for blood, but no—I’m quite sure I could have survived to the moon’s fullness.”
“Then why?”
“There is a reason.”
“Such as?”
Lying back, Gabriel turned his head into the pillow. Just go away, he wanted to say. It is done. Why so many questions?
“Very well. I was no help in keeping you from such a decision. Heaven knows I take an interest in the occult. You don’t look any different. Are you quite sure, Renan?”
The valet ceased protest when Gabriel once again flashed his fangs.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Toussaint’s fears made him smile. That he could produce such a reaction with but a toothy sneer!
“Why the long face, Toussaint? I’ve become something remarkable for you to study and preen over.”
“Much easier to wish for than to actually accept. Was it very painful?”
Now there was the curiosity he expected from his valet. Shoving back the counterpane with a kick, he stretched out his legs before him. “Not at all. Save for running my tongue across these damned teeth the first time.”
“And you’re quite sure you won’t…”
“Regret it?”
“Rage?”
“You mean, attack you without volition? Creep out from the shadows to kill you?”
“Don’t say things like that.” Again Toussaint clutched his throat. “Are you, er, hungry now?”
“For food? Or something else?”
“I-I’m not sure. What is it you want, Gabriel? Tell me so I can make you as comfortable as possible.”
“What do I want?” He moved forward, but the sunlight beaming through the oculus was too bright so he pulled up the counterpane over his shoulders, hooding his head and eyes.
“Does the sunlight hurt?”
“No. But my eyes feel dry and I blink a lot. I don’t think I’ll burn. On the other hand, I haven’t stepped into the sunlight. Everything is so new. I just don’t know.”
“I seem
to recall Mesmer mentioning vampires could walk in daylight. Only, they were not so strong.”
“Yes, but what if he is wrong?”
“Perhaps Mademoiselle Desrues could teach you a few things?”
Gabriel speared Toussaint with such a vexing glare the valet actually cringed. “She knows nothing, Toussaint. Only how to drive men to madness and fops to evil.”
“You are not evil!”
“How do you know? We, each of us, know nothing.”
“It is all in how you look at it. I believe a man can choose to be good or evil.”
Gabriel chuffed.
“Come now, Renan, you were born a good man.”
“Did such goodness keep the count and countess from abandoning me?”
“They were decent people as well. They choose a different lot. Nothing can change what is inherently you, Gabriel. Do you feel evil? Do you feel like killing?”
“No.” He sighed and shrugged his fingers through his hair. With a frustrated splay of his hand he said, “I feel no different than I did the day before, or for that matter, a week earlier when none of this had happened to me. I feel like a foppish vicomte. With sharp teeth.”
The valet nodded. “You’ll have to wield those carefully around the women.”
Gabriel curled a sly grin at the man. “Who says?”